We Live Where We Are

Wedding Flyer

2010-09-10T02:04:00.001+09:00

Wedding Flyer, originally uploaded by the woodstove.

New wedding photography flyer:

2010-08-10T11:24:00.007+09:00

While I wholly agree with Casey's sentiments below, I feel like there needs to be some mention, some documentation of the things that went right. To be honest, I have anger about the last two years. I could go on and on about the disappointments, the connections I intended to make with people who weren't available, the rejections, the bafflement, etc., but really, I am just grateful to feel like myself again. To not feel like an outsider anymore, to live in a city where one in four people are foreign-born, and to work (albeit temporarily, but who knows!) in an awesome environment with brilliant people. These are all serious blessings.

Back to my ever elusive point, there were good things about Hagerstown. I met the wives of Casey's friends from his high school days and found that we shared an uncanny number of things in common. Jenni, the gamine creative genius who taught me everything I know about making jewelry, and whose company I miss whenever I'm doing what we do best: making jewelry while watching movies and drinking massive amounts of Earl Grey. She introduced me to Samantha, the proudly West Virginian art teacher who is making a killing selling her whimsical jewelry on Etsy. She told me about a tree stump near her mom's place in WV that if you put a $20 on, will mysteriously produce a bottle of homemade moonshine a couple of hours later. And of course the indomitable Laura Mae, who on our first meeting, burst into friends' apartment after a night of square dancing and sleeping in the back of a pick-up, with twigs and leaves in her long red hair and mud caked on her cowboy boots. A total Southern babe and an old soul, she's someone I can spend hours talking to and never run out of things to say.

I also learned more things about Casey from observing him with his family. His annoying habit of speed walking down airport terminals with me several feet behind? Totally learned behavior from his dad, Terry. His insistence on being at the gate 45 minutes before they start seating the plane? That would be Terry too. His brother, Corey, shares the same good natured distinctive laugh and curious tendency to rub their feet together when watching movies. All Broadwaters love applesauce and pudding. This information is somehow useful to me.

I miss the spooky summer thunder storms, the fireflies, the wild raspberries and all the old pre-civil war era houses. Back there, roads have actual names, not just numbers. I miss Casey's grandma Marlene, who just loves on people and has a faith that makes my eyes water just hearing her talk about it. Like Casey, she's also a fantastic storyteller. As is her husband, Carroll, who will stoically sit at the table with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth and say the most hilarious (and controversial) things and with the family erupts in laughter and incredulity, he'll look over at me with a sly wink. John, the generous, hardworking grandpa who always keeps a pen in his shirt pocket and has the kindest eyes I've ever seen. And of course, Retha, who bares an uncanny resemblance to Casey and accepted me into her family as a granddaughter. She shares my fascination with traveling and the English Royals. She even gave me her Charles and Di wedding collector dolls for Christmas and would look through my Japanese scrapbooks with me on a regular basis.

These things meant so much.

2010-08-09T14:40:00.005+09:00

Back in Action, or, Maryland Schmaryland

To compress two years of history into a few sentences, here's what happened: Before leaving Japan, we decided that we'd move to rural western Maryland. No, I don't know what we were thinking either. As it turned out, Maryland was a bad idea. No, worse. A quicksand pit that proved nearly inescapable. Nearly. To put it very bluntly, Julianna and I both wish we could get those two years back. We wish we had had the foresight to come immediately to Seattle after Japan. We cringe at the naivety of some of our decisions. That said, we're done shaking our fists at our regrets, we're finally back on the west coast--feeling like proper people again--and we're beginning to see the good that came out of the two dullest, least productive years of our twenties. We had some good times with great friends. I got to know my grandparents in a way that I never had before. Juli started designing and selling kick-ass jewelry. I wrote my first magazine articles and got a job as a film critic. It wasn't all a total loss.

And now? Now we're back in action.

We've decided to wake this blog up from its electronic dormancy. Things are happening--career advancement, writing projects, music with friends, imminent possibilities. Life is good. We're hungry bears who have just woken up from a long hibernation, and it feels good to stretch and get back into the practice of living.

And so. Yesterday we took the ferry over to Bainbridge Island with Miles and Danielle:

The ferry was slightly creepy in a distinctly Pacific Northwest, Twin Peaks-meets-The Ring kind of way:

When we got to the island, the rain started and we basically walked around with our hoods up all day, looking like water-logged serial killers. We ate at a little cafe with a confusing men's room--I couldn't figure out how to open the door--and poked into the various shops that lined the main drag in town. Tucked back behind the cafe we found a tiny shop dedicated to local arts and crafts. It looked like a brick and mortar Etsy store. Juli got talking to the owner, and less than five minutes later, they had a consignment deal worked out. Juli's going to mail over a dozen pieces of jewelry sometime this week!

(Oh, and please check out Juli's Etsy shop, Mystery & Manners. She doesn't like to put in plugs for herself, but I'll do it proudly.)

Back to the Pacific Northwest.

2010-06-24T07:27:00.001+09:00

Twin Peaks, originally uploaded by the woodstove.

a.k.a. Twin Peaks country...

2008-10-08T06:23:00.002+09:00

This Country Will Know Us By Name

We're back. Maryland has welcomed us into her arms and we are, at present, nestled in the rural bosom of Washington county. The past two months have been an uneasy vacation. A vacation because we're unemployed, and uneasy for the same reason. I've put out my job-hunting tendrils, waving them blindly, but I know I could do better, be more focused. Yesterday, we went out to Chinese with Clint and Jenni, and my fortune cookie read: "You have many opportunities. Try harder." Being nagged by a cookie is something of a new low for me.

I'm not really worried though. I've got high hopes for a few of my cookie's prophesied opportunities. Right now it's just the boredom that's getting to me. I'm not sure what to do with myself. Part of it is geographical I guess. I'm not used to being here, being back in a place that was marginally "mine" eight years ago, a place where I had only lived for two years before heading west. I miss the predictability of a routine. I drift through the day hoping to accomplish something, feeling too lazy to push and too guilty to relax. I never thought I'd pine to wake up early and go to work.

There's so much going on right now--the economy, the elections, the great Hagerstown stinkbug infestation--but it all seems strangely distant, a news broadcast bounced off the atmosphere and down to this little island where I'm camped out, hunting meaning.

It helps that we have friends here. They've all gotten older, gotten married, but they're still the same, cracking wise and making beautiful things to see and hear.

On an administrative note, I'm not sure yet where this blog will go now that we're back from Japan. I do know, though, that we're going to try to live here, in the States, much like we did in Sendai. More adventuring, more exploration, and more nights and weekend trips with friends. I've got a list of places I want to go in the coming months, so I'm sure we'll have lots to report on. Later!

2008-08-05T11:05:00.001+09:00

Last Day in Hachiman

2008-07-29T10:05:00.002+09:00

Casey sighed from what was not, and dreamed, and rested from his labors.

The floor of our apartment is strewn with photographs, hair ties, ceramic bowls, stray socks and the collected miscellany of the past two years. But other than that, it's empty. If my latest iTunes playlist--which consists solely of Townes Van Zandt and Bonny "Prince" Billy--is any indication (and it is), I'm already mentally back in America, ensconced in Americana, eating comfort food and playing Scrabble with the folks. It's a bit dull and a bit predictable, but I find myself thinking of weathered fenceposts and old barns, the out-of-tune pianos and faded photographs of a past America that pulls at me like a sepia tide. I've always been a Miniver Cheevy for U.S. history ("Casey cursed the marketeers/ And eyed Armani suits with loathing:/ He missed the rustic grace/ Of hobo clothing.").

2008-07-24T01:27:00.001+09:00

Earthquake!

Less than two weeks before we leave and another big earthquake strikes! Here's some footage:

2008-07-22T15:13:00.002+09:00

Recent Events

Weekend at Kawasaki:

Mukaiyama Sports Festival:

2008-07-22T10:17:00.003+09:00

Festivities

We've been saying a lot of goodbyes lately. This past weekend we had Ewan, Ian, and Andy over for a final video game night, and the weekend before we went down to Kawasaki to stay at Maria's one last time. Strangely, but not unexpectedly, the partings we've had haven't feel like finales. We're likely to see most of the friends we've made on JET again, if not regularly or in person, at least through the modern wonder of Macbook video conferencing. Andy is a fellow Marylander. Maria will be in Chicago or elsewhere, and we're already making plans to visit her when she's living with family in Sicily. Long after Ewan returns to the UK, I'm sure we'll be playing some frantic online Mario Kart. I honestly don't feel this is our last time seeing any of our ALT friends.

Our students, however, are another matter. It's been a strange process saying goodbye to them. Last week, the English club at Niko threw a big farewell party for me. The members, about 28 of them, all brought snacks and candy and drinks, we played traditional Japanese games, and then they went around in a circle and gave miniature thank-you speeches. Many of the kids even gave me gifts. Some of the girls cried. When they asked me to deliver a parting message, even I teared up, and I'm definitely no sucker for cloying sentimentality. I'm really proud of them, the ni-nensei students in particular, and proud to have been a small, but hopefully memorable part of their education.

On Friday night, the English teachers at Niko took me out to a French restaurant in Sendai. The food was delicious (apart perhaps from the half-cooked onsen egg served inside of a raw sea urchin!) and we had a good time laughing and talking. I love those instances when I'm able to connect with my coworkers on a more meaningful level than the disscusion of grammar rules. I think there's a semi-decent chance I may see some of them again in the future too. A few of them make occasional trips to the US, and I know that Juli and I will want to visit Sendai again a few years down the line.

As part of my goodbye speech to the English teachers, I told them how wonderful it is when a place where you've lived becomes a home. Sendai has definitely become a home for us. I'll miss our supermarket--the COOP--and the Italian place down the street. I'll miss the random festivals and parades of children carrying miniature shrines through our neighborhood. I'll miss hearing the bus stop outside our apartment and the bells of Juli's school tolling out the end of class. The strange volleys of fireworks on Sunday mornings, the centenarian sakura tree in the empty lot, and the music box melodies of the bottles and cans man coming down the road. I'll miss the stares I'd get from the vampiric Belarusian lady as I passed her restaurant. The mopeds whining by at 2am. Doppler effect of ambulances from the nearby hospital. I'll miss the old man near the laundromat who gave me mikan and limes, and who showed me his inventions--the light-gathering greenhouse mirror and a footpump that expells shoe odor with every step. I'll miss the curious eyes of children playing hide and seek in the candy aisle, the Hirose river after a heavy rain, the haunted shrine by the hydro-electric power station. I'll miss the hanging matsuri lanterns that line the procession up to Osaki Hachiman jinju. I'll miss the smell of okonomiyaki grease permeating my clothes. Fog obscuring the tops of apartment buildings in the distance. The billboard with it's green tea advertisements. The obscure shelving methods of English-language DVDs at Tsutaya. The delivery boy from Pizza Hut returning to our apartment thirty minutes later to give us chili-sauce packets he forgot to offer. The election vans and their white-gloved passengers spouting campaign slogans through four massive roof-mounted megaphones both early in the morning and late at night.

Okay, so maybe I won't miss that.

2008-07-15T15:41:00.002+09:00

More Bizarre Questions From Students

Do you like Casey very much? "Yes," or "Of course?"
What kind of stag beetle do you like?
What do you think about the earth heater?
Why are you so interesting?
Do you love his wife?
Are you one of the strange man all over the world?
What is the meaning of the life?
Do you have women without your wife?
If the earth is broken, what do you do?
Have you ever been to prison?
Which does you like best, the sadistic woman or the masochistic woman?

2008-07-14T16:12:00.002+09:00

Minimal

Knowing that I am interested in Japanese poetry, one of the teachers I work with gave me two books by Tanikawa Shutaro, one of Japan's most widely regarded living poets. Here are two of the poems that struck me as I was flipping through the pages:

And

When summer comes
the cicadas
sing again.

Fireworks
freeze
in my memory.

Distant countries are dim
but the universe
is right in front of your nose.

What a blessing
that people
can die

leaving behind
only the conjunction
'and.'

Mud

Memories are
dense
dusk.

To the aging
even regret
is a faint light.

The seeds
of flowers
that will never emerge--

yet even now I keep sowing,
urging the mud
to sing.

2008-07-14T14:58:00.003+09:00

Are You Happy? Why?

There's a dead heat stalking me in the teacher's room. The windows are open but there's no wind. Rivulets of sweat are running down the cleft in my back to other clefts that need not be mentioned. The rainy season has gone, leaving as its sole remnant a vaporous humidity that frazzles hair, darkens underarms, and makes the peels of our bananas curl back in horror. The Japanese summer is upon us.

These next two and a half weeks will be a mad-hatter rush to clear out our apartment, pack out belongings, and say our farewells. The goodbyes have already started. Last week at Mukaiyama SHS, my visit school, I gave a farewell speech to the student body, assembled and collectively withered outside after a long and electrolyte-draining sports day. My introduction speech two years ago was largely greeted with silence, an inland sea of black-haired faces giving me the not-quite-evil-but-certainly-shy-of-benevolent eye. This time was different. I opened with the obligatory physical joke about being too tall for the microphone. My feigned awkwardness drew a roar of laughter, a response I hadn't really anticipated. I sometimes have a hard time telling what students consider funny. I've learned that sarcasm simply doesn't fly, but slapstick is gold, the more juvenile, the better. I hadn't prepared a speech, so after I got their attention I just winged it. The students' response was amazing. They cheered several times, clapped, and at the end the student body president came forward and presented me with an enormous bouquet that later drew curious stares as I was riding home on the bus.

I've already had my final lesson with many of my classes. Knowing that most of the students won't have another chance to talk with me, I've had each of them write a single question on a slip of paper and submit it anonymously. At the end of class I try to answer as many of the questions as I can. By far, the three most common questions have been "Why are you so tall?", "How did you meet your wife?", and "What did you say when you proposed to your wife?" Here are some of the more interesting or, in some cases, inexplicable questions:

Are you happy? Why?
Who is your favolite chalacter in Street Fighter II?
How much are you loving your wife?
Will you marry your wife again in the next world?
Having traveled around the world by swimming, what do you do how to swim?
I love you. Have you had a flight in your nose?
What do you want to do if you were an invisible man?
Who is the most pretty girl in this class?
Am I a good boy?
If you were a woman, do you think you would fall in love with you just now?
Which do you want to kiss, the cutest boy or the plainest girl?
When was your's first love? And please tell us that detailed story as possible as you can!

2008-07-11T14:19:00.005+09:00

Aren't they gorgeous? One of the things I will miss most about Sendai is my Bible study group. Every Thursday, we meet at Xiao's and I leave 4 hours later with that lightness you get from the company of good friends and quality prayer time. Seriously, these girls know how to pray. I joined the group rather late but they have been more than welcoming. Though we're a very international mix, (Singapore, South Africa, Japan, England...) the seven of us share much in common. Friday was Meredith's birthday and we joined forces with her other friends to celebrate her properly. The only thing I had to frown about was that everyone got tiramiusu with their dinner set, while I got stuck with black vinegar jelly.

2008-07-10T09:13:00.001+09:00

I had my new students answer standard get-to-know-you questions last March. I came across thier answers while cleaning out my desk.

What is unusual about you? (This question elicted indignation or complete confusion. Apparently not a kosher question in this country.)

-I like the scent of books.
-It is wearing red grasses.
-I have a back born plus 1.
-I can sleep that open eyes.
-I can dance the strange dancing.
-I think that I am usual!
-I can sleep that open the eye half.
-I can use an abacus.
-I have been a gambler since I was eleven.
-I have the Brums.
-I and my little sister learned to do blind touch in kindergarten.
-My brother ate ants about 10 years ago.
-I am never content.
-I can fly!
-I am a bit dull.
-I am passionately devoted to madly in love with mushrooms.

What is your best memory?

-The culture festival in last summer. We made a big mural. I never forget the taste of frankfurt that I ate them!
-Hally Potter.
-Missing a step and tumbling down the stairs is my best memory.

2008-07-05T00:06:00.002+09:00

Photos of the Week

I particularly like this one of Juli:

I made this little postcard to announce our homecoming:

Shattered glass outside the kyudo club's practice area:

2008-06-30T10:41:00.002+09:00

The Reality

Another mile-marker has been passed, as it is now one short month before we leave Japan. The preparations for our departure, which had, up until now, been marked by leisurely procrastination, are rapidly cramming themselves into the forefront of our already crowded and slightly overwhelmed minds. My supervisor talked with me this morning about cutting off the utilities to our apartment, about final classes, goodbye parties, farewell speeches.

In so many ways, I'm ready to leave. At school I've been mentally-absent, distracted, anxious to get these last few lessons over and done with. I want to get home and get started on whatever comes next. But at the same time, I'm having the expected doubts. Why didn't we travel more in Asia? How could I have connected better with my students and co-workers? Would one more year have changed anything?

2008-06-25T15:42:00.003+09:00

Hard Drives and Broken Teeth

Last week my hard drive crashed and I lost just about all the writing I'd done over the past two years. Meager scraps and lists of ideas, mostly, but it stings to know they're likely gone for good. Fortunately I had backed up my iPhoto library about a month ago, otherwise I would have lost upwards of 8,000 images from our past two years in Japan. I did, however, lose all my shots from our trips to Yamadera and Matsushima with Juli's brother Joe. Lessons learned, I'll be making monthly back-ups from now-on.

We spent Saturday through Tuesday in Tokyo, hunched under umbrellas with radii much too inadequate, sloshing through the crowds and arriving out-of-breath at out-of-the-way museums only to realize that yes, right, of course, they were closed at the particular moment we chose to visit them. This kind of defeated slogging is miserable enough, but it was aggravated by the triumphant return of my periodically dormant toothache, which seems to pound out its throbbing and grotesquely baroque rhythmns only when there are drastic changes in the barometric pressure. I downed four ibuprofen when the recommended dose was one, turned sleeplessly for two straight nights, and lubed up my molar with amounts of Amersol so generous that the entirety of my mouth went numb and Julianna complained that I smelled like a dentist's office.

Despite the elemental and oral setbacks, we had a good time showing Joe and his friend Seth around The Big Bento. I have a bit more to say about the trip, and the past two weeks, but it's very late, and I'm very tired, and so I'll wrap this up with a few random pictures from Tokyo:

Remember to check out my flickr page for more. www.flickr.com/photos/thewoodstove

2008-06-16T11:46:00.002+09:00

Not the Big One

Two days ago Miyagi was hit by a magnitude 6-7 earthquake. Juli's brother Joe and his friend Seth are out visiting us, and when the quake hit we were sitting around the TV nurturing our nostalgia with a few clumsy rounds of Street Fighter II. The rolling started, I rushed to turn off the gas, and we all hung tight under our respective doorways. The shaking was largely side to side at first, but the quake ended with up-and-down shudders, the kind that topple buildings. It seemed to last for about 40 seconds or so.

When a quake hits, the fear I feel is never about the present moment, but about how bad the situation could possibly become. You never know how long it will last or how strong it will get.

The epicenter was in southern Iwate and the strongest area hit was a town in northern Miyagi called Kurihara. The scary thing is, that morning we were planning on going up to that area to visit our friend Aaron and go to an onsen. Had we gotten an early start, we probably would have been stuck in the middle of nowhere until the next day. All but one of the train lines out of Sendai were shut down for hours while inspectors scoured the tracks for damage. The train stations were all crowded with stranded passengers and the bus services were undoubtedly making a killing.

Things here return to normal pretty quickly after a quake, so while we couldn't make it out of town, we spent the day hotfooting it from place to place around Sendai. Yesterday the trains were running again, so we made it out to Yamadera, a mountainside temple/shrine complex that was built around AD 900.

While this quake was fairly large, Miyagi is anticipating the return of a massive off-shore earthquake that shakes things up about every 30 years. I hope we're long gong by the time that one hits.

2008-06-10T15:39:00.002+09:00

The Weekend

On Saturday I (Casey) went to a high school kyudo tournament at the budokan in Nagamachi. Kyudo literally means "way of the bow," and in Japan, archery is considered not only as a sport, but also as an art and form of meditation. The venue was extremely crowded and there was no seating, so everyone simply bunched up against a guard rail. I managed to take some pictures after sneaking into the "matoba," the shed-like structure in which all the targets are nestled into a dirt hillock. This way I could see arrows up-close as they struck the targets.

Students collecting the arrows after they've been shot and scored:

This budding photographer had the best view of the day:

Then on Sunday Juli and I went hiking with a few friends through a gorge just outside of Sendai proper. We walked upstream for a few hours until we came to an overpass that spanned the gorge. This particular bridge is apparently one of Sendai's prime spots for suicides, and the area below is considered by the locals to be haunted. It was a bit creepy, standing there in the brisk water and looking up at the bridge about 100 feet above us. I found a junked tri-pod in the bushes and we all imagined the photographer trying to get one last shot in before he hit the shallow creek bed. Aside from the general spookiness, it was a beautiful hike and it was hard to imagine that the downtown part of Sendai was literally only a few minutes away. There were definitely a few parts where I imagined myself as a character on LOST, traipsing through the unexplored jungle.

On Monday we had a substitute holiday for having to "work" on Saturday (two hours at a kyudo tournament is hardly work), so we spent the whole day cleaning the apartment and getting suitcases packed to send home with Juli's brother, who is coming out to visit us later this week.

We're definitely in for a busy next few weeks. We'll go to Tokyo with Joe, show him around Miyagi, and after he leaves we'll only have five more weeks left in Japan!

2008-05-19T08:49:00.003+09:00

One Hundred Posts (in Solitude)

Here it is, our one hundredth post! Seems kind of pitiable, actually, only one hundred posts in two years, but then again there have been vast stretches of time in which Juli and I have lain catatonic in our cryogenic sleep chambers, with little or nothing to report and lacking the mental wherewithal to report it. Our date for leaving Japan is drawing nigh, so hopefully you've notice that we've rubbed the sleepers from our eyes, stretched our atrophied writing digits, and tried to sum up our daily mundanities with a more pulsar-like regularity.

This weekend was Aoba matsuri (festival), a celebration of Sendai's Aoba-ward, which happens to be the part of town in which we live. Aoba matsuri commemorates the construction of the Toshu-gu shrine, which was completed in 1654. Large floats, called yamaboko are wheeled down Jozenji street, and troupes of dancers perform suzume odori, a traditional jig supposedly improvised by drunken stone-masons upon the completion of Sendai castle, which imitates the fluttering motions of tree swallows (can't make that up). The dance is accompanied by tin whistles, banged pots, and taiko drums playing a distinctive, repetitive refrain.

Juli went up to Kogota Friday night to visit Dan and Andy, and got a crash course in parenting courtesy of Kai, their three month old baby. Apparently, Juli says, the best way to quiet a crying tot is to hold a mirror above his face, rub his tummy, and tell him how handsome he is. Would work for me too, I guess.

The highlight of the weekend was definitely dinner on Saturday night. A month ago, our friends Kyo and Jen told us about this Japanese woman who runs a restaurant out of her apartment. Calling it a restaurant is a bit inaccurate though, as it's only open on weekends and can seat a maximum of five people. The experience is more like going to someone's home, having them fix you an amazing dinner, and then paying them for it. And it was amazing. The woman, whose name I can't recall at the moment, takes regular trips to Italy, where she takes cooking clases. To supplement her income, she makes home-cooked meals for anyone willing to make a reservation. We had a delicious six-course dinner while her tiny dog Gu-chan napped on the nearby couch.

Sunday was a bit lazy. We went into town to watch part of the parade, had lunch with our friend Makiyo, and then I went home to photoshop some images and play copious amounts of online Mario Kart.

Next weekend we're going hiking up to Yamadera, a famous mountain-side temple complex, with some of my school's English teachers.

2008-05-14T23:24:00.004+09:00

Hachiman, Little Big Neighborhood

A few days ago I went walking, looking for the highest vantage point from which to photograph Hachiman, our neighborhood. I found a run-down, on-the-verge-of-being-condemned apartment building and scaled its seven story iron fire escape, trying not to imagine how it would pitch and sway during an earthquake like the modestly big one we had last week. At the top I took a few photos and a little school girl, probably seven or eight, came blasting out of her apartment, saw me standing oafishly by the ledge, and came to a dead, silent stop. I turned around to smile and she slunk away toward the elevator. Oh well.

Here are the photos. I've been playing around with making fake tilt-shift images lately, a process that skews perspective in such a way that the resulting photographs look like miniature model train sets. Let me know what you think.

Click on any of the images to go to my flickr site, where you can view full-size versions of the images. Thanks!

2008-05-14T00:27:00.001+09:00

A Tour of Our Apartment

We should have done this a long time ago, but however belated, here is a little tour of our living space for the past two years:

2008-05-13T13:49:00.002+09:00

Reverse Culture Shock

I'm going to go on the record here and make a few predictions about what I'll be thinking when Julianna and I come home from Japan in August.

"No one is staring at me."
Imagine, for a moment, that you are waiting for a bus. Across the street a Hitler impersonator in drag is tying balloon animals for an imaginary crowd of no one. Imagine a man with backwards-jointed faun knees doing backflips outside the post office. Imagine, then, the rubbernecking pandemonium of Amazonian nudist beauties lining vast stretches of America's highways in protest of the Iraq war. In Japan, I illicit more stares than all three. I have provoked deep gasps of amazement and impromptu height comparisons with complete strangers. In a way, I will miss being perceived as different. However, the "otherness" of my appearance has also led to wary stares, never more apparent than when I'm taking public transportation. "The Stare" is an unavoidable feature of life in Japan for a foreigner, and I have a feeling I'll either love the slinking anonymity of being back among blond-fronded giants, or I'll have a mild identity crisis over not being noticed. It's like Naomi Watts in I Heart Huckabees: "Stop looking at me. Don't look at me. No, look at me. Please everybody look at me!"

"Everyone is red and fat and poorly dressed.
I have to hand it to the Japanese for being slim, trim, and generally sharp-looking people. In America, the girl out shopping in her paw-print-on-the-ass sweat pants is a virtual pandemic. Transported to Japan, her laissez faire fashion sense would be brutally and deservedly dismantled.

"I just spoke in Japanese to the waitress."
This happened already, actually, when Juli and I were home for Christmas. Straight off the plane my parents took us to The Olive Garden, where I bumped into a waitress and repeatedly mumbled "sumimasen" (I'm sorry) while making mini self-depreciating head bows. For a few months I'll probably make a gutteral "uhnn" when I mean "yes," and please don't stare at me if I bob my head like a disconcerted bird when I'm talking on the phone.

2008-05-12T21:53:00.002+09:00

Golden Week

Golden Week is Japan's equivalent of Spring Brink, but with marginally less booze. Certainly no breasts are being shown, anyhow. Rather, the week is golden because it contains three national holidays. This year, two of those holidays fell on Saturday and Sunday, which cut Golden Week unceremoniously short and demoted it, as my friend Ewan said, to "Bronze Week." Still, we tried to make the best of it.

Kaori, one of our Japanese friends we knew in Seattle, decided to come up to Sendai and spend the weekend with us. We had a long standing invitation to stay at our friend Aaron's place, so the three of us, like Basho himself, made our way into Miyagi's deep northern interior. Aaron's place is in a small town, and unlike most apartment-bound JETs, he lives by himself in a self-standing, cottage-like house. Like any good Portlander worth his salt, Aaron is a great outdoorsman, and so he took us around to some of his favorite natural haunts, including a swimming hole where we found fossilized leaves (see below), and a short hike up to a fairly magnificent waterfall. After the hiking we had lunch at a great family-owned roadside restaurant/produce market, where we saw a grandmother kill a giant Asian hornet, the size of her fist, with a tiny fly swatter. Our hunger satiated, Aaron took us to Naruko, a small town famous for its onsen resorts. The best onsen are natural outdoor hotsprings, and the one we went to was beautiful. It overlooked a river and the blossoms from an adjacent cherry tree drifted down upon us while we were bathing. That night, after a big meal, I played guitar with Aaron and Kaori joined in on a bunch of Belle and Sebastian songs.

Then, on Tuesday, we met up with Joy and Sergio and went to the Yagiyama zoo, which is near my visit school. It's a small zoo, and most of the animals looked depressed, except for the monkeys, who were very clearly bi-polar. Still, we had a good time and Juli was seconds away from hopping the fence into the tiger cage when he started purring his throaty tiger purr.

2008-05-08T00:23:00.002+09:00

Two From the Archives

Last year, a few of us when up to see the "snow monsters," trees encased in ice, at Mt. Zao. This is me trying, unsuccessfully, to hop from one tree to the other.

April is campaign season in Japan, and last year we lived directly above a local candidate's campaign office. His stump speeches often woke us up on Saturday mornings.

2008-05-08T00:04:00.001+09:00

Julianna, Four Over Par

2008-05-06T00:10:00.002+09:00

Have been feeling nostalgic for high school lately. This happens annually, and the only thing to do is bring out The Jesus and Mary Chain.

2008-05-01T23:33:00.002+09:00

Park Golf

On Tuesday, a bunch of us ventured north to the tiny town of Tajiri to engage in the fierce geriatric sport of "Park Golf," a three way hybrid of mini-golf, real golf, and croquet. Park golf was invented in Hokkaido in 1983, and while I don't claim to know the history of the sport, I assume the shrunken size of the courses has something to do with the high cost and unavailability of land in Japan. A park golf course is composed of nine holes and must not exceed 500 meters in total length. Standard golf rules apply, but "parkers," as they are known, are limited to one ball and one extremely short (for me) club.

With the exception of one or two families with children, we were the sole representatives of the "under 65" crowd. Old ladies with question mark postures hunched over the tees and thwacked away while their bespectacled husbands reviewed anxiously their scorecard's every chickenscratched number. Attire was thoroughly professional and accessorized to the nines with shoe-bound ball carriers and laminated scorecard protectors. Floppy hats were in abundance.

Not to be outdone by a bunch of toothless retirees, we came decked out in all manner of golf fashion. Pant cuffs were rolled, socks were hitched, and I made damn sure to doff my cap any chance I got. The old folks looked on with bemused curiosity, the men snapping their gums, the little women prim, their cotton candy hair bobbing in the late spring breeze.

2008-05-01T22:44:00.002+09:00

A Recent Acquisition

Last week I (Casey) bought a used Mamiya RZ67 from a small camera shop here in Sendai. A staple in fashion photography (though quickly being supplanted by digital), the RZ67 is a 6x7 medium format camera with a rotating back, which allows you to shoot in landscape or portrait orientations without moving the camera body. It's a modular system, so the lenses, viewfinders, and film backs are all interchangeable. At around 7lbs it's a beast to carry around, but I managed to handhold it all day Saturday while my school was having its annual sports festival.

2008-04-27T13:09:00.003+09:00

Behold Casey's birthday cake.
Unicorn candles, angry Japanese gorilla robots, and a kewpie doll with a bamboo shoot hat were just some of the decorations that adorned his cakes. My lovely friend Makiyo spent 6 hours with me baking every layer of all 5 cakes in our humble toaster oven.

2008-04-23T13:50:00.003+09:00

Casey and I were invited to participate in the annual Izumi English Camp. I was in charge of teaching Gospel music, Arabic script, belly dancing and being generally responsible for a team of shy girls named "SESAM5." Casey taught Patois and reggae music while simulatenously being responsible for a group of impious girls who chose to go by "JACKO." We bathed in the onsens, chased kids down the halls, and ate more ice cream than you could shake a waffle cone at.

2008-04-21T22:42:00.002+09:00

Agfa Isolette II

I picked up this little gem on our last trip to Tokyo. It's a German, medium-format folding camera that was produced between 1950 and 1958. Because of the folding bellows design, it's incredibly portable, even if it has the density of a sturdy but slightly overweight German matron.

I've been wanting to dive into medium-format photography for awhile (I don't think lomo-style Holga stuff counts, really), and I've got my eyes out for the following:

-Rolleiflex 2.8f
-Hasselblad 500 c/m
-Mamiya C330

The used camera market in Japan is amazing, as would be expected, but it suffers from price-inflation of cameras that are considered "classic." A Rolleiflex in decent condition in the states would run between $500 and $1000, while here Japan they go for upwards of 200000 yen (about $2000). While it's undoubtedly a "collector's" camera, it's a shame to see such a beautiful tool be put on a shelf or in a moisture-free safe, never to be used. Japanese-made cameras fare better. Mamiya systems can be found for a good deal cheaper, and used Nikon and Canon lenses are overabundant. New gear skews higher in price, oddly enough, compared to the states. I've been looking at getting a SB-800 speedlight for my D80, but they cost almost $500 here, whereas in the US you can find them for $300. The discrepancy seems ridiculous considering that there's a Nikon factory here in Sendai, but I suppose the hobbyists here are simply used to getting price gouged. I've got to give it to the Japanese for being the best-equipped amateur photographers in the world. When we visited Kyoto I saw flocks of the elderly carrying massive Manfrotto tripods and pro camera bodies slung around their necks like dead albatross.

2008-04-18T21:43:00.004+09:00

It is Hanami season, Japan's favorite time of the year. Which means you hang out under the cherry blossom trees with your friends to celebrate the arrival of spring by drinking sake until you're too inebriated to point straight.
We hanami-ed it up in Shiroishi, a thirty minute train ride south, home of the famous Shiroishi castle and annual winter home for Siberia's migrating swans. Below is Maria "ants-in-her-pants" Filippone and I giddy off the blossoms, and hamming it up for Casey.

2008-04-07T15:10:00.002+09:00

Two weeks ago, the JETs in Miyagi put on a pantomime. Casey took pictures and helped write the skit, while I and Amy Crossley did the makeup. The best part was that I got to transform the very American and male Jesse into the Sadoko, the archetypal vengeful Japanese female ghost made famous in The Ring. He looked more like a panda bear in the begining, but things came together in the end.

2008-04-03T12:05:00.001+09:00

Sakura, Sakura

Within a week, the cherry blossoms will bloom and initiate Japan’s sacred rites of spring. Old semi-toothed men will congregate on blue plastic tarps in the shade and tipple long draughts from tallboy cans of Asahi Super-Dry. The weaker, or perhaps more wistful among them will lay supine and let the falling blossoms turn them into pink old man cupcakes. The others will rub their noses, grimacing into the sun, and think between sips of how not to think about what it really means when cherry blossoms fall.

All around, families will crowd under the trees, their shoes removed and carefully twinned along the perimeters of their tarpaulins. They will eat from bento boxes, get cramps in their legs, and feel natsukashi*. Wind will pass though the trees and carry off chopstick wrappers and plastic packaging. The more concerned citizens will hurriedly slip their shoes back on and chase down the errant bits of wind-borne garbage, making sure to deposit them in the proper receptacles.

Naturally, there will be festival goods for sale. Tanned vendors with wizened faces will hawk plastic superhero masks and overpriced candy. Rows of canvas booths will offer yakisoba and grilled corn, chicken skewers and fried balls of battered octopus. There will be long queues and the cashiers will holler at the cooks to hurry it up. But off in a corner, the Chinese man selling beer and lime "margaritas" with his small son will not get much business. They will sit on plastic stools and the man will wonder why he is doing this again. He will think, over the hours, about fishing, about his son, and about his very beautiful wife, who is somewhere else. When I approach he will stand up and motion for his boy to take my order. I will show one finger, hand the boy 500 yen and smile as his father salts the rim of my plastic cup. When he hands me the beer I will say thank you in English and he will grin and nod and wipe his hands on his apron before sitting down again.

*nostalgia or fondness

2008-03-31T10:59:00.002+09:00

Tailor of a Cat Prin

I came across a Japanese website that sells accessories for cats (feline cos-play). The fact that these cats are able to convey a variety of emotions like fear, depression, annoyance and self-righteous indignation reminds me why I love cats so much in the first place. See below for some of the absolutely brilliant copy editing.

A spring admission season -- exactly . It is the uniform of "the school of a sacred cat"!

I congratulate you on the entrance of you to "the school of a sacred cat" which we want to tell to your cat. All the cats that can be stylishly dressed well in the "CAT PRIN sailor color" which is the uniform of this school are suitable to the student of "the school of a sacred cat." If a sailor color is worn, a cat will disguise itself wisely! Since it can equip on a piece of Velcro, attachment and detachment are easy!

A cat is gorgeous and wild Leopard which disguises itself! Dress a cat only with shawl. Shawl achieves the duty of a foppish muffler. Back cloth is a tartan check handle and a hat and shawl look dear. Moreover, since it can equip with both on a piece of Velcro, attachment and detachment are easy!

Anne of Green Gables appeared in popular costume play series!

The hair of the red hair of costume is coquettish and cute. The cat which became a hood figure is likely to have a broom at any moment, and is likely to begin cleaning. As for the blouse of the country tone made with the same cloth as a hood, the yellow flower arrangement of the center of a collar is impressive, and looks very prettily! Since it can equip with a hood and a blouse on a piece of Velcro, attachment and detachment are easy!

It is spring new work! They are frog transformation goods!

This is a dear frog transformation set. It is made from bright green felt cloth, and the big eye of a frog is attached. Even if it takes, it is finished to the pop impression. Please observe the leg fin wound around a head. Since it can equip also with a hat and head volume on a piece of Velcro, attachment and detachment are easy!

2008-03-31T10:28:00.013+09:00

Dr. Strangelove Gives Me a Present

Last week, in an ultra-rare instance of failure on the part of my immune system, I was taken with an old-man cold that stubbornly planted camp in my lungs, making wet-leaf fires, keeping me up all night with his drunken tirades, and using my esophagus as his own personal latrine. I tolerated the intrusion for a while. With equal bullheadedness I burned through my days, refusing to acknowledge the wayward hitchhiker squatting on my inland empire. Then, on Monday, I nearly fainted in the shower, and by Thursday I was confined to bed, eating green tea ice cream and taking naps between watching four episode blocks of Lost. Juli pleaded with me to go to the doctor. She said, "You can go to the ENT behind Seiyu. He’s really old and gentle and speaks flawless English. Plus, you can get your ear checked out." For the past few months my ear has been beleaguered by a searing intermittent pain, purely external, which Juli had convinced me was a symptom of TMJ, otherwise known as "Tough-shit, Mandible Joint."
So with Juli in tow I went, trudged up the hill hacking and moaning and spitting out the mouthfuls of mustardy afterbirth that eked laboriously up from my throat. I checked in with the nurses, somehow making my symptoms understood with the universal sign-language for yes, my nose is running, and yes I sound like a tuberculosis patient in a Civil War-era hospice. In the waiting room, a doughy mother eyed me suspiciously and held back her literally snot-nosed children from entering the flight path of my fierce gaijin cough.
Eventually, I was ushered in to see the ENT, a turtle-ish Dr. Strangelove with small round maniac glasses above his white surgeon’s mask. My first thought, somewhat guiltily, was he’s old enough to be a war criminal. I remembered Shusaku Endo’s The Sea and Poison—grim vivisections, punctured lungs, and cold salt water drained into the blue veins of U.S. POWs. Here I am, the same age as the soldiers this mad doctor likely dismantled. I was conscious of my mind vaulting to ridiculous, arguably racist conclusions. The doctor was leaned over his desk, making notes with the kind of stubby pencil you get at miniature golf courses. It had been a minute since I had entered and he still hadn’t said anything.
"Hello," I said.
"Ah, hello." He kept on jotting. "What is the trouble?" His voice was papery and high and stretched.
"Well, I have a cough and a runny nose and…"
"Any fever?" He looked up and swiveled his chair to face me.
"No, not now. Earlier this week, Monday, I think I had a fever."
"What was your temperature?"
"I don’t know. I didn’t check. But it felt high."
"How long have you been coughing?"
"About three weeks, maybe a month."
"Since February 9?"
"Around then."
"Why didn’t you go to the doctor?"
"I guess I’m stubborn."
"Any trouble with inspiration?"
"I’m sorry?"
"With inspiration. Your breathing."
"No, no. Just coughing really. Also, the reason I came to you is my wife has been here before. Julianna Broadwater."
"She has?"
"Yes. And I’ve been having this burning pain in my left ear, just on the outside, and I’m not sure what’s causing it, maybe TMJ."
He let out a loud, singular laugh and rolled toward me in his chair. "I don’t think so." Without warning he pushed me sideways against the green leather headrest and held me there with a Vulcan telepathy grip on my temple. I could feel him put something in my ear and felt heat from a burst of light. He was probing close to my eardrum and I winced against the metallic cold.
"Do you feel an itching?"
"No. I just think…"
He loosened his grip and wiped a small hard ball of amber wax on my forearm.
"A present for you."
By this time I was nervous and thinking that at any moment he could produce a scalpel from inside of his sleeve and flay my cheeks open in a kuchisake-onna grin so that he might have a better view of my tonsils. I stared warily as he rolled to his instrument table and grabbed what I assume was a forked, metal tongue depressor. He grabbed my jaw as if to pry open my mouth and, when I fearfully complied, stuck the thing so far down my throat that I began gagging and tried to push him away. I caught my breath as he held the depressor above my face like a bayonet.
"I can’t, I’m going to throw up."
"One more time."
I reluctantly opened my mouth again and the depressor went in further this time, scraping up against my uvula, causing a wall of bile to rise in the back of my mouth.
"Stop," I gasped. He put down the depressor and motioned for the nurse.
"Go with the nurse. I will prescribe medicine for your cough and inspiration. Come back tomorrow at this time, good?"
As I was leaving I grabbed a tissue from off his desk so I could wipe away my present.

Needless to say, I didn’t go back the next day. When I got to the pharmacy, I found out that he had prescribed eight different medicines, including an inhaler for my inspiration. Juli was bewildered, as she had had a really great experience with the guy a few months ago. I’m not sure why he was so rough with me. Maybe I was giving him flashbacks?

2008-03-25T09:45:00.005+09:00

Christmas Purikura

Last December, we barged into a local arcade armed with a group of friends, a bag of 100 yen coins, three creepy ex-president masks and two Santa suits. The best part was that we had no idea what the screen behind us would show until two seconds before the flash went off. So inside the booth, our conversations would go something like this: "It's Buddha! Can we both fit on his lap?" "Oh this one's the North Pole! What should we do?" "Leap Frog!" "Ooh, what's next?! What's next?!" "Oh, it's an oil lamp in Egypt!" "Quick! Rub the lamp and I'll be the genie!"

2008-03-24T15:01:00.006+09:00

My school is changing history

After operating for over a century as an exclusively girls-only school, they have responded to the government's arm twisting and are opening their doors to male applicants for the first time this spring.

The paint is still drying in the newly constructed and quite swanky boy's restrooms. The other day I witnessed news crews anxiously setting up cameras inside them under the watchful eye of a vice principal. All this celebratory attention lavished on the boy's restrooms is a dramatic contrast to the rest of the school's Chernobyl vibe. And no, inviting the comparison isn't much of an exaggeration, though instead of radiation, our chief environmental hazard stems from asbestos and paint made in China. Sort of like if 17 years ago, this school stopped running for whatever reason, everyone hastily evacuated and no one ever returned to collect their things. And I am not the sort of American who thinks "Oh, that distinctive Soviet charm!" everytime I see forbidding concrete structures, peeling paint, broken rotary telephones, dirty fans from the Eisenhower administration or creepy public service posters.

Besides, there is a Belarusian restaurant next door to our apartment where the proprieter's Stalin-inspired hospitality and attitude towards Americans make the Cold War seem as current and alive as the one in Iraq. And Casey refuses to go there again on account of "her vampire teeth."

But back to my ever-elusive point, there is something about the school that I can't adequately describe. "Neglect" isn't the right word, because that wouldn't fair to the janitorial staff. It just feels like Miss Havisham's mansion, ancient, vaguely female and deterioating. We even have an eroding bronze statue of a naked adolescent girl at the front of our school as a hallmark of feminine decay.

And for the record, Casey's school, formerly an all boy's school, is very different. A telling indication of how the Miyagi government prioritizes its spending.

2008-03-24T14:25:00.005+09:00

Valentine

On Valentine's Day, 3 giggling girls came barreling into the teachers' room after the obligatory thursday morning meeting. Wearily, all the teachers looked up wearing exasperated expressions and I felt sorry for whoever was going to be the recipient of both the girls' attention and the wrath of the teachers who work here.

Then girls made a bee-line to me, scattered a few kitkats on my desk and boldly presented me with a polyester rose. "For you! Varentines plesent for you!" The staffroom fell dangerously silent, this sort of thing isn't done at my school. We take ourselves much too seriously.

Very much touched, and slightly concerned about the subsequent discussions about how I shouldn't socialize with students at my desk since it is a distraction for the 40 other teachers, I politely oohed and ahhed at the beauty of the rose. The girls started snickering wickedly, and then I noticed a tuft of red lace sticking out from the center of the rose. I curiously gave it a tug and the girls suddenly freaked out and started shrieking "NO! NO! Plesent for you and CASHEY! Open it with CASHEY at HOME! For your VARENTINES with CASHEY! LOVE-LOVE!" All the teachers in my vicinity instantly became enraptured with the nearest blackboard/screensaver/office memo to them. I could literally see their ears prick up as their faces grow ever more stoic. The girls collapsed over each other in a fit of giggles and I nervously stuffed the rose and chocolates into my purse. Later alone, after closer inspection, I found something that could be described as underwear. Though I don't know anyone who could call it that in good conscience.

(Side note: Two of these girls were trouble-makers in my class. Completely uninterested in English and resistant to participating in any activities. But having a snarky little brother who stubbornly refused to go along with my ideas has instilled a bossy big sister approach in my response to these students. So I always end up pulling up a chair next to them, pretend to be oblivious to how mortified they are, and start talking to them in English about their hair, boyfriends, eye-lash curlers, why Japanese people like white bread so much or the wierd "English" on their pencil cases. If they aren't going to do the work in class, they have to talk to me in English. After all, it is technically called "English Oral Communication" and they have clearly benefited more from the individual attention. Because after 11 months of this, we've become pretty well aquainted and their English has seriously improved. I haven't let their references to sex, hello kitty sex or obsession with Casey faze me, so they've been going through their mental rolodex for ways to shock me. I am wearily anticipating what they will come up with next.)

2008-02-12T21:33:00.000+09:00

Requiem for Hamu-Chan, or, How Cold Our Apartment Actually Gets

Hamchan, my lovely aging dwarf hamster, is no longer with us because Casey killed her. Just kidding. No, actually he kind of did. But I kind of did as well and at the same time, it was an accident and she was pretty frail to begin with.

Last thursday was a mammoth day of wringing hands and intense dicussions about our future in Japan. After reaching a decision, Casey and I were peacefully sitting on the cot in the western room watching Japanese TV. Hamchan was being nippy and after a dinner of cabbage and sesame seeds, crawled into a sock that I fashioned into a sort of sleeping bag for her. With the added insulation of a dish towel folded below and over her, she was warm and very pleased. After an hour, I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. I lifted the towel, Hamchan was sleeping soundly with her little paws folded under her chin. She looked exhausted, content, prim and sort of pious. I didn't want to wake her up just yet knowing it was difficult for her to stay warm and asked Casey to put her back in her cage before he left the western room. He agreed and I went to bed.

The next day, I was having lunch at home and chatting with my grandmother in Seattle. When she asked about my "little rodent" and I noticed Hamchan's cage was open. I lifted up the dish towel on the cot and was greeted by hamster droppings. Frantic, I turned the apartment upside down searching for her while maintaining a conversation with my grandmother. She loves animals more than I do and is the sort of person who builds bunk beds with heating pads for the 3 stray cats in her back yard. I couldn't find Hamchan anywhere, and barely made it back to school before the 5th period bell rang. Casey helped look for her when he came home and we still had no success. Fortunately, Andy the maverick of all trades was coming over that night and if anyone would find a missing hamster in a Japanese apartment, it would be him. Once he came, he asked the obvious question "Well, have you looked in any of your shoes by the front door yet?" and seconds later I heard him yelp. I ran over, picked up Casey's shoe, tilted it toward the heel and her tiny curled up body slid down suddenly like a dried leaf. No life. No movement. Completely frozen.

I ran into the bedroom to look up prayers from St. Francis of Assisi while Casey prepared her for burial. At some point I decided that I needed to see her again to say goodbye and tell her what a good little friend she was to me. I lifted the lid and took apart Casey's meticulous packing and I am so glad I did because one of her legs briefly stirred. The tiniest and meekest of kicks. Hallelujah! I cupped her in my hands and breathed over her body, seconds later I felt her stir. I ran to the nearest space heater and massaged her stomach. She felt like an ice cube, I flipped her over and started massaging her little chest which yielded a little more movement.

This is when things got really strange: Andy's mother holds a PhD and was a leading researcher of the cirrcadian rhythms of hamsters. You can't make things like that up. He actually has memories of a child playing with the syrian hamsters in his mother's lab. So Andy called his mother and learned that when Hamchan crawled into Casey's shoe to stay warm, she went into a state of "torpor." A sort of bad hibernation that only really healthy hamsters can recover from. Apparently, this was not the first time she had gone into torpor, but her first at our apartment. It was so cold and dark in our apartment that she literally freezed. Andy's mother also warned that the fact that she was twitching was not a good sign. After what seemed like hours of heaving and sporadics gasps on her part, prayers and massaging on mine, she tightened her body, winced, and stretched out violently before collapsing and dying in my hands. I was in tears. I felt incredibly irresponsible for leaving her on the cot. Granted, her fur was patchy, her legs were rickety and her health was failing. She was old, and I am just glad she didn't die in Casey's shoe. And this just cemented my feelings about living in this apartment for another year. Yes, for slackers like us, not ever having to put the milk or leftovers away is convenient, our entire kitchen is now a fridge. And it is sort of funny that Casey thinks there is a fire everytime I boil water for tea, but if your home is so cold that your hamster literally freezes to death, then it is probably a good thing that this is our last winter in Sendai.

2008-02-05T20:41:00.000+09:00

Sendai, Smeared

Near Sendai station, polaroid through a Holga.

2008-02-05T15:23:00.000+09:00

The Final Countdown

I wish I could somehow link to that song; just imagine it for me, if you would. Juli and I have to decide by Friday whether we want to stay for another year. I'm honestly split on the pros and cons.

Pros for Staying:
1. We would save a good bit of money.
2. Would get to travel more around Japan/Asia.
3. Another year of general Japanese wackiness.

Cons for Staying:
1. Juli's school situation.
2. Would we be productive, lifewise?
3. Another year of general Japanese wackiness.

Pros for Leaving:
1. Would get to be back with family.
2. Get an earlier start on real life.
3. Being able to communicate with people on a meaningful level.

Cons for Leaving:
1. Not sure what to do next.
2. Would like to save more money.
3. General anxiety.

I have a feeling that no matter what we choose I will be content, it's just that the process of deciding has been painstaking and slow. If it comes down to it, Juli and I are just going to janken for it.

2008-02-04T11:01:00.000+09:00

Now a Cricketer

As mentioned before, I went to cricket practice on Saturday, knowing absolutely nothing about the game. Turns out, it's quite fun, a kind of baseball-minus-two bases-plus-two tabs of acid equation. Here are some facts I learned:

1.) Games can last for days.
2.) The term "wicket" has about 3,287 meanings.
3.) The pitcher is most emphatically not a "pitcher," but a "bowler."

After cricket we caught the train downtown and ate at Namaskar, an Indian place frequently haunted by ALTs and other foreigners. Juli and I are on a first name basis with the manager, so she can generally guess exactly what we're going to order, and occasionally treats us to free dessert. They used to show Bollywood movies and music videos on a giant screen, but that cultural petit-four has unfortunately been withdrawn.

That night we went down to Ewan's apartment to have dinner and play the new Smash Bros. game. We also busted out Wii Fit and I filmed everyone's absurd hip gyrations as they were doing the hula-hoop game (video to follow). On the train home, a few drunk old men started pestering us and so Andy and I pretended we were Finnish and had a long conversation in our native tongue, which pleased the two inebriates greatly.

The next morning, with the onset of a sore throat, I could barely swallow or speak. I ended up staying in bed almost the entire day. Juli made me some delicious potato-leek soup and we watched a streaming, pirated copy of Cloverfield, essentially a handi-cam version of a movie that was shot on handi-cam to begin with, thus doubling the film's inherent nauseating quality.

Some doubt has been cast on whether we will stay a third year or not, but we only have three days to decide. Stay tuned!

2008-02-03T13:42:00.000+09:00

Only in Japan

On Saturday I went with a few people to a gym in northern Sendai to practice cricket. On the way there we stumbled across this sign:

Naturally, I thought it must have been a strip club of some sort, but I peeked through the window and it was a regular old Japanese-style bar. Only in Japan.

2008-01-31T23:37:00.000+09:00

Ping Pong: Lion vs. Lamb

Corey and Clinton battle it out to settle, once and for all, the validity of the proverb that claims "if March comes in like a lion, it will go out like a lamb."

2008-01-31T23:15:00.000+09:00

Daily Photo

This is one of the hallways at my school, specifically, the corridor along which all the ni-nensei (second year) homerooms are located. There are eight homerooms per grade, and approximately 40 students in each class. On this particular day, the rooms were set up for entrance exam interviews. Unlike the U.S., in Japan, students are not bound to a high school by location-based zoning. Technically, you could live anywhere in the prefecture and, so long as you pass the exam, enter the school. I have some students who have to take a one and a half hour train/bus commute to school everyday.

Notice the chairs against the wall--these are for solitary students nervously awaiting their interviews.

2008-01-31T01:22:00.000+09:00

Sting Pong

The video explains itself:

2008-01-30T10:25:00.000+09:00

Tomorrow my school is having entrance examinations, so the classrooms will be flooded with anxious junior high kids who would probably give up eating rice to get into one of Sendai's best high schools. The crazy thing is, during these exams the school goes into total, red-alert lockdown mode. No one can leave or enter the building after a certain time. All the teachers have special bento lunches brought in so they don't have to run out to the combini. And oh how mum is the word. The tests are kept so secretive that my supervisor only talks to me about them in whispers.

Secretness is a bit funny here. Last year Juli and I were both selected to be on a panel of judges that would interview potential Japanese teachers of English. We were both explicitly told that we could tell no one that we were selected--including one another. Of course we both spilled the beans the moment we got home and had a good laugh over it. I would say, though, that holding your cards close to your chest is about as Japanese as wabi sabi pottery and train fetishes--that is, very. I think that's part of what gives the Japanese people and culture an exotic quality in the west. They smile and bow and speak extremely politely, but you're never quite sure what they're thinking. And though it's sometimes massively frustrating, in work and social situations, quite often it saves them from the distinctly American syndrome of spouting off whatever unimportant opinions/emotions/nonsense that flash-bang into their brains. For that I am occasionally grateful.

On a different note, the principal of my school is retiring this year, so I've decided to make him a picture book (no, not a coloring book) composed of photographs I've taken of the school and students over the past two years. The teachers are having an overnight enkai for him at some onsen/ryokan resort, and I've been invited, but I think it might be a bit awkward for me to go. And massively expensive, which will sort of help when I have to explain why I'm not attending. I'll be sad to see him go, as he is an exceptionally kind and I'd-go-so-far-as-to-say classy man who speaks in elegant English and occasionally invites me to his office to simply chat. He even enjoys reading Keats, Byron, and Yeats. What a guy!

2008-01-29T19:45:00.000+09:00

We dedicate ourselves anew...

...to this blog. I know my promises aren't worth much nowadays, given the fits-and-starts nature of this little endeavor, but I'd really like to update this thing much more often. So here we go. Perhaps a recap is in order.

1.) Christmas--Juli and I went home to the rambling hills of Maryland for the holidays. All told we spent a little over three weeks basking in the modern marvels of central heating and double-paned windows, luxuries that Japan has stubbornly refused to embrace. Going from an apartment that regularly hovers around 43 degrees to a house with an actual "room" temperature was like entering a parallel world where comfort is regarded as a basically good thing. It was great to sit around with the family watching movies without having to wear layers or turn on a kerosene heater. And oh did we watch movies. My dad got a 42" plasma TV which came with a free Blu-Ray player and 10 free Blu-Ray discs. I was a bit ambivalent about the whole HD format war, but I've been thoroughly swayed. The video quality is astounding--even when upscaling regular DVDs. I also managed to go see Juno, No Country for Old Men, and There Will Be Blood at the theater.

Not all our time was spent lounging around, however. Corey found some terrifying paper mache lion and lamb masks at my parent's church, so we made a short film and I took loads of pictures. Here's an excerpt and a photo:

Of course, we also spent lots of time with my grandparents and our friends. It was so good to see everyone again--it's always strange to see how much things have changed or stayed the same over the course of a year. Oddly enough, we met Clinton's wife Jenni for the first time--they're a perfect match. Clinton made me a fabulously creepy clock from a wooden box, cut up doll parts and doll house furniture. And he gave me some Michael Jackson trading cards from the mid-80's. What a sweetheart.

It was a bit difficult to leave, emotionally, of course, but also physically because we had three suitcases and our new internal frame backpack stuffed to the brim with clothes and supplies to tide us over during our third year in Japan. I brought back four pairs of shoes and several pairs of pants--goods that would be literally impossible to find in my size in Sendai.

2.) Winter Camp--The day after we returned to Sendai we headed up near Akiu for Izumi SHS's annual English winter camp. Juli and I were selected to be camp counselors and give a few fun, haphazard lessons. We had a great time, got to meet a lot of enthusiastic students (not necessarily the norm for Japan), and spend time with some ALTs that we don't normally get to see. My group of students called themselves "Jackko" and performed a skit titled "Love or Horror," an improbable mash-up of Titanic and The Ring, complete with creepy ghost Sadako turning into an iceberg to sink the ship. Oh Japan.

3.) Mid-Year Conference--We were a bit stressed out about mid-year over Christmas break as Juli and I were both chosen to give presentations, mine on "Effective Use of the Textbook in Academic SHS" and hers on job-hunting post-JET. Everything went fairly smoothly though, despite a few glitches. After the conference on Friday we went out with some other ALTs to celebrate Eric's birthday with bowling and a trip to a really excellent organic dinner buffet. Andy and Maria stayed at our place that weekend and we somehow managed to watch almost the entire third season of The Office, make amazing homemade vegetarian burritos (including tortillas from scratch), and meet up with a real estate agent to check out some potential new apartments. And I took some spontaneous portraits of everyone:

Well, I think that about catches us up. Like I said, no promises, but I'm really going to try to keep everyone up-to-date on our whereabouts and happenings this year.

2007-10-17T20:28:00.001+09:00

Last weekend, Casey and I jumped on our bikes and met up with Andy downtown. We fancy ourselves a bike-gang, and it would be the last weekend warm enough to ride.
Once Casey bought a Sherlock Holmes coat, we rode to the Nagamachi weather towers. After a never-ending ascent up an ancient stone stairway, which judging by the absurdly spaced steps were probably constructed by the nephilim before the great flood, we were face to face with the blinking weather towers. There were crows, lots of them, just like in Hitchcock's "The Birds." Also two indigenous Japanese black dogs (I forget the name of the breed) but they looked more like bears than dogs and didn't care for the looks of Andy. After making scary faces for Casey's impromptu portrait session by the cemetery, we began the long descent back to our bikes in pitch-black darkness.
After an organic Indian food dinner, we went home and carved pumpkins. Then Casey made us watch "Evil Dead" and I cooked up a coconut pudding. Halloween, Sendai style.

Cicada

2007-09-08T01:20:00.001+09:00

unsprung, originally uploaded by a bird in the woodstove.

This is the week the cicadas die. So, I took some home to make a few pictures. Click for more.

small planets

2007-08-29T21:39:00.001+09:00

small planets, originally uploaded by a bird in the woodstove.

I just got a new macro lens for my D80, and I'm anxious to try it out. So far I've only shot some things around the apartment--spigots, the tops of cans, and the like. Looking forward to getting out in the real world with it.

Anyway, click on the photo to visit my flickr account, where I have all our current photos from Japan posted. I update it every week (every few days, actually), so you'll get the latest and best from our abode in Sendai.

I know I've said this before, but Juli and I really want to get this blog back up to date. Expect more frequent updates from here on out!

the sea

2007-07-19T00:09:00.001+09:00

the sea, originally uploaded by a bird in the woodstove.

I just posted some new pictures. Let me know what you think.

Cheers,

C

2007-07-03T22:43:00.000+09:00

Japanamericanada Day

The taxi driver took us to the wrong beach. Whether it was on purpose or a simple miscommunication, it's hard to say. He dropped us off at a place called Gaijinhama, or Foreigner's Beach, so he was either having a joke at our expense or honestly thought, "oh, gaijin, they must want to go to the gaijin beach, not the beach in the directions they gave me."

We were planning on meeting a group of people, mostly people we didn't and still don't know, for Canada Day. Our group of eight friends decided to go up early and have our own celebration, Japanamericanada Day, before anyone else arrived. So, we thought we were at the right place. No one thought to ask the locals, who watched us with curiousity from their nylon tents, the men with their shirts off, tanned, a few women wearing ridiculously large sun bonnets and white gloves.

We layed out our tarps and food: peanut sesame noodles, potato salad, fruit salad, salad salad, sandwiches, hummus, Doritos, Oreos, and a few lukewarm cans of Dad's rootbeer. Together, in the tradition of our fathers and grandfathers and forefathers, we ate our way back to the memory of independance, a kind of food lust for freedom, reminding us of the bountiful cornucopia we have in North America (hey Mexico, shushh, not a word).

We threw frisbee. Explored a small cave that would soon be underwater, herds of insects swarming out from the cracks for high ground. The women chatted and made sure everyone was wearing sunscreen. A cool wind skipping up off the water. Hot sand. Chris and I swam out to a tsunami-breaker about fifty yards offshore. It looked like someone had dumped a whole childhood worth of oversized concrete jumping jacks into the ocean.

Around four o'clock we realized we were at the wrong beach. Our contact wasn't returning our calls. What to do. Someone grabbed a giant piece of bamboo, six inches thick, and we decided to play baseball. Our ball? A plastic bottle full of seaweed and briny water. Canadian flags for bases. We hefted the bat over our shoulders with a wide grip and swung mightily. One loose hand let it slip and almost impaled a mom and her kids on a beachtowel nearby. That'll learn 'em. Homeruns were hit and slides into second became wetter with the high tide encroaching on the infield. We played for nearly two hours, a fitting substitute for the Independance Day requirement of leaving a beat-up AM radio tuned to a staticky ball game.

We got to building a fire, got as far as digging the hole and collecting the wood, when our contact called, told us we were a fifteen minute walk from where the real party was. There was some debate as to whether it would be worth going or not, but the allure of a proper bonfire and bbq won out. We took our bamboo bat with us, which, along with a few other sticks, had been fashioned into a rocket launcher for the night's fireworks.

The party was in conversation cluster mode when we arrived and we soon fell in with the handfull of people there that we actually knew. When we got bored Andy and I took inventory of the fireworks, seperating the bottlerockets and mortars from the sparklers and roman candles. Ashton attached a Canadian flag to our makeshift rocket launcher. Andy manned the lighter and I took the pictures, getting long-exposure shots of the sparkler drawing madness that quickly ensued. I avoided the guitar circle, not because I didn't want to play, but because they were playing campfire singalongs and all I know are murder ballads and sad hymns.

When the fireworks ran out we called the taxis to come pick us up. We were sunburned, with sand stuck to our legs and beach hair that stood in dry and salty curls. We were quieter. Carrying bags of trash and plasticware. With the workweek looming overhead our day of freedom closed in the backseats of cabs, the bonfire and dark ocean falling away as we sped toward the city glow.

Reminder

2007-07-03T22:41:00.001+09:00

it gets no happier, originally uploaded by Two Trees.

I just got a Flickr pro account, so I'm in the process of uploading a whole bunch of pictures from the past year. If you'd like to check them out, go to: www.flickr.com/photos/thewoodstove.

Thanks!

2007-07-03T01:04:00.001+09:00

Pour some maple syrup over this one., originally uploaded by Two Trees.

Since July 1st is Canada Day and July 4th is Independance Day, we decided to combine them, throw Japan in for good measure, and create a new holiday, Japanamericanada Day.

Appropriately enough, the festivites were held on "Gaijinhama," (Foreigner's Beach) in Shichigohama, Miyagi.

A more detailed blog is forthcoming (I promise I'm going to get this train back on track), but for now, please check out my flickr photoset:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/thewoodstove/

Casey

2007-04-22T22:49:00.000+09:00

Matsushima

Yesterday, Yuko, Chie, Juli, and I went up to Matsushima, supposedly one of the three most scenic spots in Japan. A full, written update is forthcoming, but here are a few photos until then...

2007-04-22T21:57:00.000+09:00

Tokyo

Here are a few images from our trip to Tokyo last month:

2007-04-19T13:51:00.000+09:00

April, half gone.

April is ushered into Japan with a fleeting bloom of the cherry blossom trees that line railways, riverbanks, and avenues, their petals hanging in papery bunches over shrines and backyards, pink and blown like candied snow in the wet winds that always precede or follow rain showers. In a week they'll be gone, replaced by green leaves, the last blossoms washed down storm drains or browned and bruised underfoot. It's this ephemeral nature that gives sakura-season its significance, and this sense of temporary existence also underlies wabi-sabi, a strain of Japanese aesthetics/philosophy that emphasizes the acceptance of the imperfect and transient.

Fittingly, April is also the start of the new school year in Japan and, as we all know, there is nothing more fleeting than our school days, our years of youth blown by in a taut wind like so many petals. But we're getting much too flowery here.

Yes, the new school year has begun and I am in the process of introducing myself to some 640 new students in the two schools that I visit every week. Perhaps most dramatic has been the arrival of 70 female students at my base school, Sendai Niko, which was formerly an all-boys school. The classroom atmosphere has changed considerably, as the girls, with their, let's face it, better English abilities, have proved to be positively talkative and even willing to ask questions. The English Club at school has also increased from four to a staggering twenty eight members, three fourths of which are 1st year girls.

During one of my self-introductions today, I asked the class if they had any questions about me. Normally when I ask something like this I am greeted with a sea of silent, black-frocked faces. But today I actually got a few interesting questions, the most entertaining being "What kind of woman do you like?" I wasn't quite sure how to answer that one, and ended up explaining that my wife has dark brown hair and looks a little like Audrey Hepburn (someone they all recognize). I stammered a bit, eventually saying that I like "smart, beautiful women." Umm, woman.

I'm at school right now, nursing a bottle of Asahi "Bireley's" orange drink, a twenty percent juice concoction that is, almost certainly, eighty percent sugar. I've got a class in ten minutes, a second year writing class, and after that I'll have English Club for an hour after work. This weekend, two of our friends from Tokyo, Yuko and Chie, are coming up to Sendai to stay with us. I'm not sure what we'll do yet, but visiting Matsushima, the famous bay dotted with 160 pine-clad islands, is in the talks.

I'll post some cherry blossom pictures later today...

2007-04-19T00:53:00.000+09:00

Harper's Ferry

Here are some photos I took at Harper's Ferry when Juli and I were back in the states for Christmas. I'm making it a point to get this blog up to date, so I'm starting here and working my way up to the present. Expect more frequent updates from here on out...

2007-03-25T00:06:00.002+09:00

These two pictures are of when Casey and Louise came to my hospital school for an official visit. The visit required a month of planning, hanko-stamping, paperwork and phone calls, but in the end, Casey played his guitar, Louise sang, and the kids were nothing less than thrilled. Not only did they have get to hang out with two new foreigners, but one was 2 meters high! Visiting this awesome school is the highlight of my week. The staff and faculty are wonderful and include me in everything despite my terrible Japanese, and the kids are what I love most about my job. Such big personalities! Plus, two of my students are Christians and my supervisor arranges for us to have "chats" about our shared faith. One of these students was just accepted into Tohoku University for his undergrad- a very impressive accomplishment, and I am very proud of him.

2007-03-06T01:02:00.000+09:00

Part 1

Okay, I had a bunch of long-winded descriptions for these, but my Mac crashed for the first time ever last night right while I was in the middle of updating. I'll try to get the descriptions written again at school tomorrow! Thanks for your patience!

More in a bit...

2006-12-14T00:45:00.000+09:00

Christmas

With all this talk about what Christmas means, I thought I'd throw in my own 2.3 yen.

Now that I am a certified, card-carrying adult, Christmas has become a respite from responsibility, a brief return to the simple and powerful magic created when families converge to eat, play card games, and talk, just talk. I am fortunate in that my relatives are all alive and living within the short span between the Mason Dixon line and lower Virginia's Blue Ridge mountains. When I go home for Christmas, I go home, my family and the landscape of rural Maryland overlapping like layers of a watercolor.

I think of my uncles, their work-callosed hands squeezing my biceps, their faces changed in small, nearly imperceptible ways since the previous year. Aunts to be greeted with meek hugs. Close-aged cousins, once my closest friends, now with opaque lives, new jobs and relationships, interests I never knew about. Everyone is one year older and, though I try ignore it, I am strongly aware that I know nearly nothing of what has happened in their lives between these Christmas bookends. They sum it up for me with impossible succinctness; the job is going well, the kids are doing such and such, we went to Florida for a few days this summer.

If there is one thing I've forsaken by living so far away these past seven years, it's familiarity--family. Now, in our present attempts to relate, we rely on the tensile strength of our pasts, bridge-building with those small memories we've used for years to define one another. To my aunt, I'm still the nephew perpetually kicking her shins for telling me Superman isn't real. Cousin Matt always always sides with me. Dwayne is forever the cool younger uncle who lets me stay up all night playing his Super Nintendo. Because we never see each other, these memories, stretched endlessly into the present, are all we have. Yet somehow, they are enough. Trite and true, cliched or not, family is family is family.

And Christmas, for me, is family. Jesus is there, sure, but like a backdrop or, better yet, the stagelights. Setting the scene, illuminating all of us--grampa as he throws a few fake punches, testing my reflexes, the endless supply of young cousins wailing and breaking their new toys, grandmas watching proudly, brothers sharing a plate of pie, and the parents and their siblings playing Uno and laughing over shared vacations twenty years past.

I simply can't wait to be home for Christmas. Hope to see you all soon!

2006-12-07T14:04:00.000+09:00

2006-11-27T09:06:00.000+09:00

Probable Cause?

The Iraq war has now lasted longer than America's involvement in WWII.

I don't know what else to say about that.

2006-11-24T16:15:00.000+09:00

Frog

This one is from Julianna:

"I was just correcting an essay and felt compelled to share it:

The most exciting event for me during my junior high school days was dissection of eight frogs to study them. I was interested in creatures. I wanted to know them in detail. So, I decided to examine frogs. I dissected the body of a frog. First, I performed an abdominal operation. Next, I skinned the frog. And I took Frog's organs from the body. Last, I examined organs under the microscope. The more I examined the frog, the more I was interested in it. So, I decided to dissect seven more frogs. It took ten hours to dissect the 8 frogs. I was tired."

If I was a punning man, I'd say it's a good thing those frogs already croaked. Good thing I'm not not.

2006-11-22T09:00:00.000+09:00

Robert Altman, one of America's truly great filmmakers, died today.

http://www.time.com/time/arts/article/0,8599,1562162,00.html

If you've yet to see it, check out Short Cuts, his reworking of nine Raymond Carver stories.

2006-11-17T08:17:00.000+09:00

Loch Lomond

I finally got around to posting on MySpace one of the songs Louise and I recorded, a traditional Scottish ballad. It's available at www.myspace.com/mysteryandmanners, my profile page, or www.myspace.com/theblackships, my music page.

More to come...

2006-11-14T23:05:00.000+09:00

Homeward Bound, I Wish I Was

Well ring a bell or bang a gong folks, because come December 22nd the lovely wife and I will be crossing the Pacific--eastward this time--and back to the old U.S. and A. Our feet will be tickling Maryland's fancy until January 3rd, when we will rotate the globe a hair counterclockwise, to Seattle, where we will dodge torrential rain for about a week. Then, on the 14th, back to the future, tomorrowland, Japan. We can't wait to see you all.

In other news, quite literally, I will be appearing on Japanese television this Friday, sometime between 6pm and 7, NHK channel 3. One of the teachers at my school is going to Qatar to referree an international basketball meet and a local news crew is doing a short piece on him. To show off his English prowess, the news crew wanted to know if I could do a little interview with him. Of course, this was all sprung on me unexpectedly this morning, as I came in late to school, unshaven and a bit rumpled after sleeping through my alarm. It went well though. I asked him a few questions about how he came to be a referree and what he is looking forward to seeing/doing in the Middle East. I also mentioned Julianna, that she was born in the region. The reporter then interviewed me a bit, asking what I thought of the teacher and his English abilities. Hopefully I'll post a video of the clip here after it airs, so watch out for my ugly mug.

2006-11-10T14:47:00.000+09:00

Hey Ho, Let's Depart.

Keegan and Saya will be coming up to Sendai this weekend, and we're rightfully stoked to see them. I'm going to put these gnarly fake tattoos all over Keegan's face as he sleeps, tattoos of American flags and peace signs decorated like American flags. Then I'll do the old dip-yer-buddies-hand-in-warm-water-as-he's-snoozing trick. Bazaam! Saya will get whipped cream in the hand and a feather to the nose. Heck, Julianna better watch out, lest I duct tape her eyes shut or something.

I love having people over. Now I don't need any excuse to plastic wrap the toilet.

...

Oh yeah, the real point of this post. I will be making a new Myspace music site this weekend for the songs that Louise and I are recording. More on that later.

Audi-Five Thousand

2006-11-08T00:15:00.000+09:00

Notes on Today

The cold is coming in through the thin windows and wrapping about the ankles my too-short pajama bottoms leave bare. It's just starting, this crisp snap. The wind bellowed up around lunchtime today, stripping branches, the leaves making knife-sharpening sounds on the asphalt. I walked to 7-11 to grab a hot dog and some milk tea, a cheap and comforting lunch, but had to stop twice along the way to rub out errant bits of leaf and dust from under my contacts. At the store, with my eyes watering, one of my students mumbled a timid hello behind me in an aisle as I compared brands of chips (I went with a Nabisco Pringles rip-off, a mistake). He asked me a few carefully considered and stiltedly phrased questions and I watched his whisper of a mustache. The conversation was awkward for both of us. His mind churned away, dredging up infrequently-used English with an effort I can't seem to muster when it comes to language learning. I turned the canister of chips end over end in my hands. I have encounters like this all the time and they're never really boring, unless I'm tired. And I was tired today.

When I got home I scrubbed the shower grouting and cleaned the floors in the kitchen and toilet room. Julianna came home late, wet hair, wet jacket, the bottoms of her pants dripping, glasses fogged. She brought McDonald's, wisely packed in a plastic sack, two cheeseburgers apiece and fries to share. We ate and watched Okusama wa Majo, a Japanese version of Bewitched that appears on Wholphin #2 and features invented sub-titles by writers of the Daily Show. I could only take about fifteen minutes of it. The subtitles were funny, but the characters' voices were grating and the special effects of the hey-wow-another-blue-screen-comp-shot variety. Normally this kind of low-brow, ha-ha-the-subtitles-are-fake-and-they-slipped-in-some-good-Engrish-jokes humor is just fine by me but, like I said, I was just tired.

Julianna went into another room to do Juli-things (like a baby, I have trouble imagining others' actual existance when they're out of sight--this is no insult, just a lack of imagination and full-helping of laziness) and I sat down to track some guitar so Louise could have something to sing over tomorrow when she comes by to record. The third string, G, felt tight as I was tuning and just as I nestled the pitch within the LED - 0 +, the string snapped up past my face and then fell jangling across the others. No luck tonight. I took a long shower, in the newly clean shower, but I had to dry off with a towel damp from this morning's rinse. No luck tonight.

I'm not sure why I'm not in bed yet, the cold air wrapping about the ankles my too-short pajama bottoms leave bare.

2006-11-06T20:56:00.000+09:00

Lebanese Stuck in Traffic...in America.

2006-11-06T09:38:00.000+09:00

Teenage Boys Do a Halloween Mad-Lib

Responses are in italics.

It was a coloudy (weather adjective) and clear (weather adjective) Halloween night and my friend Keisuke (a friend's name) and I were getting ready to go trick-or-treating. At first, we wanted to dress as Chainese (plural costume), but we realized that would be too black (scary adjective). We decided to go as only panties (plural costume) instead. We headed to the old (scary adjective) house in the poor (adjective) woods behind our neighborhood. When I knocked on the rich (adjective) door, Mr. Mori (male teacher's name) opened it! At night, he was more red (adjective) than usual, and he was holding a yellow (adjective) cat. "I feel troublesome," (greeting) he said. "Would you like some candy?" Sad (emotion adjective), we skipped (movement verb) away to Yosemite Natioral Park as fast as we could!!!

2006-11-02T14:15:00.000+09:00

The Timid Gentleman, or The Evidence That Would Have Put Me In Jail

Here's a short, depressing bit of digital trickery to remind you that murder is socially irresponsible. Oh, and you get to see Gid take one to the kidney with a screwdriver.

Posted By:Josh

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

This was filmed a few years ago by Josh, Gideon, me, and a bottle of Hershey's Special Dark. Note Josh's splended editing (though I liked it better when the soundtrack was Godspeed You Black Emperor). Good times.

2006-11-01T10:41:00.000+09:00

Responses to: "If you could create a new Halloween monster, what would it look like? Describe your monster using as many adjectives as possible."

The monster's name is "Mr. Sugai." It is little shorter than a usual man, and it always says to us, "Bow." It teaches us English that is easy to understand. Its story is interesting.

The monster's name is "GOZIRAIAN." It is very short, but very strong. It can breathe blue fire and it can fly. It often eats a very big meat.

This monster's name is "Mr. Solar Eclipse." He is cheerful and dark. So he is not scary. And he has a sister named "Lunar Eclipse." She is always angry. She is more scary than "Mr. Solar Eclipse."

My new Halloween monster looks like a beautiful woman. She wears a white kimono and her hair is purple. She has a very big scythe and use it to kill the children. She eats children's souls. When you see her, please run away.

My new Halloween monster looks like vampire. But he doesn't suck at blood. He sucks at many kind of juice because he likes juice very much!! He have on short and wear long cloak. Those color are profound blue. He is a very nice monster, I think.

The monster has three big heads and only one small leg. It has dark green faces with two red eyes and one black eye. It is nocturnal. It lives in cold places. There is no danger for person, but probably the person who sees it will be surprised, get scary and run away soon. But the monster just wants to play with you. It is easy to make a friend with it.

It is a very small cat and it is only yellow. It has blue eyes. And mouth is very big and half of face. It eats human in the night. It doesn't have house and isn't liked people. Today, people were killed by the cat.

The monster looks very big and dirty. His body is black. He is stronger than any other monster. He gathers a lot of garbages. No one goes up. He attacked us easily. He lives in dumping ground. But he has weakness. It is that he weaks beautiful things.

It's the largest of all monsters. Its body is red like blood. It has very big hands, mouth, feet, and eyes. Therefore, it looks very stern. Children who see it begin crying.

It has teeth look like crocodile. And it has eyes look like bird, body look like bear. It has wing look like bird. But voice is very pretty.

It looks very positive, sociable, beautiful, grand, polite, fresh, divine and healthy.

The monster has a lot of keys but he doesn't use them.

It looks like a cat. It's not only big, but also beautiful. However, it's always angry, so sometimes people is killed by it. People are scared to death it. In fact, it is easy to control it. Just give it fish.

The monster is fat. The monster's look is very terrible. But he is honest. You'll like him soon.

My monster is big and strong. He has gold eyes. He looks a terrible, but he is very tenderhearted.

A new Halloween monster look like ghost. It is very big, and it has loudly voice. But, its face is pretty, and it likes to take a bath.

Ebisu, Pumpkin, Apple, Pokemon, Gozira.

2006-10-31T19:09:00.000+09:00

Egg-Shaped and Winged Japanese Children Sing, Hug a Bipedal Dog

Posted By:Casey is "Sonny Angel," Mayo Baby

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

I can't express just how happy this video always makes me.

2006-10-30T23:23:00.000+09:00

You American? Gary Cooper?

Posted By:Sonny Angel, Mayo Baby

Get this video and more at MySpace.com

This slightly inebriated man approached me outside of Sendai Station, pulled out his songbook, and began to sing. The video speaks for itself.

Let me know if you want more, because I've got a slightly longer video that has him doing a little shuffle and hand-motions.

2006-10-30T16:46:00.000+09:00

YahooBB

So I finally got my apartment plugged in to the internet, but I have a dillema. Whenever I try to log into my hotmail or yahoo e-mail accounts, I get a message saying that the server cannot be located. I'm not sure what to make of this and would appreciate any help you might be able to give!

Casey

2006-10-25T16:23:00.000+09:00

Walking Marathon

Despite the two massive blisters that blossomed on my right pinky and left ring toe, respectively, the walking race was great. I got to talk with many students beyond the classroom barrier (amazed at how confident they were speaking English outside of class), and I shot three or four rolls of film in my Holga. I now feel like I truly know my way around Sendai, and if I ever got lost at midnight in Nagamachi Minami, I could probably wander home on foot just as easily as taking the bus. That is, if I didn't mind walking for six hours.

But the potato soup I mentioned? Yeah, well. It was tonjiru, or pork soup. Since when was pork soup an incentive for walking fifteen miles? Potato I can understand, but pork? And the last four kilometers the girls were all chanting ton-ji-ru, ton-ji-ru as if they were about to recieve manna from heaven.

Julianna and I went to see The Black Dhalia at The Mall, but I came out feeling a bit underwhelmed. It was nothing new, really. The same old noir. We did find out, however, that they will be playing Marie Antoinette sometime next month.

I'm off now to the Mediateque to meet up with a few students from the movie club here at school. I've been asked to head up the club when they graduate next year!

2006-10-24T14:31:00.000+09:00

A letter to a former professor, currently on paid leave, regarding an unusual confusion in the naming of muppets.

In reference to your latest blog entry, the one concerning "green" in its many forms, I'll assume you know our froggy green friend is "Kermit," and that by referring to him as one who lives a hermetic life of solitude you were actually making an allusion to your current sabbatical.

Granted, Hermit the Frog would make a terrific addition to the foam and felt cast of Jim Henson regulars. I envision him holed up in a box or ratty tenement on the south side of Sesame Street, an Oscar-the-Grouch minus the stench and with the astringent piety that comes from deep religious conviction. Perhaps he could take Ernie's rubber ducky obsession one step further and keep bronze icons of lily pads and horseflies barb-wired around his thin-skinned chest, close to his small, slowly beating heart. Was he driven to this solitary life of sackcloth by his cold, moist, amphibian lust for Miss Piggy, that voluptuous and porky sometime paramour of his older, more charismatic and socially-mobile brother, Kermit? If this sexual rage did not drive him to live in rags and sleep on bags of coal (and I'm sure it did), his lonely lifestyle can only be explained by what I presume to be a humble reverence for, and servile obedience to, whatever watery gods inhabit the ponds and soggy bogs of frog-dom.

Sincerely,

Casey

2006-10-19T11:58:00.000+09:00

Watari Cultural Festival

2006-10-19T09:49:00.000+09:00

Marathon

There is a prefecture-wide walking marathon for high school students tomorrow, and I have decided, at the last minute, to participate. Granted, it's not a true marathon; at 24.8 kilometers it measures roughly 15 miles. Still, I'm sure I'll be winded enough. The course flits about a nearby mountain and through the outskirts of town, so I'll have two cameras in tow to document any oddities along the way. Oh, and the best part? We get free potato soup at the end.

I'll do anything for potato soup.

2006-10-18T13:20:00.000+09:00

Preparation, "H" for "Holgaroids"

Ever since buying my Holga, I've been on the hunt for the elusive "Holgaroid," a polaroid back for the Holga body. Last week, at Village Vanguard, a brilliant retailer of kitsch here in Sendai, I found it. Tucked into the corner of their toy camera display (I am amazed at how popular Lomo seems to be here) was a small sign with a picture of the Holgaroid back. I asked one of the clerks, in very tentative Japanese, if there were any in stock. She flitted off (I swear some of these girls have bumblebee wings) to the back room to check. When she returned, it was with empty hands and an "I'm sorry I just killed your dog" kind of face. I looked around for a few minutes, marveling at the Famicom pillowcases and severed rubber hands. It was like going to a thrift store where you didn't have to wade through junk and everything was new.

All of the sudden, the girl buzzed up behind me, tapped (stung) me on the shoulder, and presented me with my long-sought holy grail of instant gratification. Yes, yes, and yes.

The next day, following our writer's workshop, I promptly wasted two packs of film before I figured out how to load, shoot, and unload the film properly. At around $15 for 10 exposures, this was a relatively expensive learning curve. But oh the glory when the clouds parted and I shot that first successful frame of trains leaving the station. The burst colors, the soft focus, the tunnel-vision vignetting. I'm really going to have to start budgeting my film expenses.

I'll post some of the shots once I find a place to scan them. Oh, and I did a double exposure of Freddy Kreuger's face hovering over a statue of Colonel Sanders.

This weekend should be productive. Julianna and I want to visit Matsushima Bay, one of the "three most famous sights in all of Japan," and I might do some recording with Louise and go around to a few pubs distributing CDs and trying to line up shows. We played at a cultural festival two weeks ago, in Watari, and I still need to post a few pictures of us, along with the crazy guy who played Chinese violin whilst atonally singing.

2006-10-10T14:45:00.000+09:00

Oh Bother

My head is leaking fluids faster than I can unravel the tissues.

2006-10-04T14:33:00.000+09:00

More Haggis-on-Whey

I've got to buy one of these absurdist books. I love how Canada is a rabbit.

2006-10-04T14:27:00.000+09:00

The Shower Nurse

At the hospital I noticed this woman walking around in shorts and a t-shirt. She was quite smiley and usually pushing this one older lady around in a wheel chair. For a week I thought she was a patient's daughter, and so I was very surprised when she showed up in my room with a wheel chair one evening. She made enthusiastic motions to get in it, and being unable to ask in Japanese where she was taking me, I clumsily obliged, assuming she wanted to take me to meet her mother. I thought this was really wierd, but failed to find another reason why she would want to wheel me around the hospital and figured this was another enigma of the Japanese culture. These days, in the spirit of living in a foreign country, my new mantra is to just roll with it.

However, I reached my breaking point when she wheeled me into a room with an 11 foot square bath tub and a shower nozzle. By this point I was desperately hoping she was a hospital employee (I wish I could attribute the fact that I still hadn't caught on yet to a cocktail of powerful pain medication that rendered me a faulknerian idiot- but I can't because the only thing they had me on was a very small dose of tylenol, yet another thing that made little sense) I had bathed myself just fine the days before, and generally the nurses would leave me to undress in privacy to do so. However this woman refused. She pantomined pulling off her shorts with great flourish and I responded by slowly taking off my glasses and robe hoping she would leave like the others by the time I finished. This only made her impatient. She started to pull up her shirt a la Girls Gone Wild before stopping midway, then tugging aggressively on mine while speaking in rapid Japanese. So I shyly took off my shirt and stood on my good leg. My back was to her and she seized the opportunity to yank down my pants, underwear and all. I was literally pantsed. I quickly hopped onto a plastic lawn chair and she proceeded to bathe me before a brisk and militant toweling off. I don't mean to sound ungrateful, but I could have really used her help the days following my surgery. But this was now 10 days later, and I was more than capable of washing myself.

I learned later she is what is called "a shower nurse."

[Note: An actual post by the lovely Julianna? Well bless my nippers. - Casey]

2006-10-03T16:02:00.000+09:00

Seventeen Items Recently Found In or Near the Potomac

1. Dead muskrat
2. Kabuki mask
3. Plastic Christmas tree
4. Tricycle - circa 1930's
5. Plywood cutout of a German Shepard
6. Remains of a dog wrapped in pink insulation
7. Message in a bottle from Chambersburg, PA
8. Dead field mouse in a drinking bottle
9. Uncorked bottle of not-so-bad wine
10. Socks growing moss
11. Spiderman underwear
12. Boxers in a tree
13. Two full I.V. bags
14. Tube of Vagisil
15. 8" mortar shell
16. Red Cross stretcher
17. 50 Bosnian dinars

2006-10-03T15:56:00.000+09:00

www.haggis-on-whey.com

2006-09-29T08:45:00.000+09:00

I found a ¥680 copy of Terrence Malick's Badlands at the DVD shop by our apartment. Talk about scattershot, this veritable classic was wedged between Kindergarten Cop and Weekend at Bernie's. I still haven't figured out their shelving method.

2006-09-28T14:48:00.000+09:00

The Atomic Family, Bicycle in a Bush, School Assembly, and King of Sendai.

2006-09-28T12:49:00.000+09:00

The 18 Year Old Me and What He Wants

We've had rain lately, a cold heavy rain that has seemingly washed away the oppressive humidity of summer. I'm glad about this for a number of reasons, the most insistent being a husky nostalgia I keep in reserve for this time of year. I get a certain high from the blowing leaves and overcast skies, but it's tethered by a kind of autumnal sadness, the weight of longing and memory. I say this knowing full well how cliché and overly-emotional it sounds, but let me indulge myself here. My friend Josh sent me a message the other day titled simply "Lest We Forget" and containing a link to the first entry of a certain online journal I once haunted. Bored, I read the first year's worth of entries, beginning in early November, I believe, before literally feeling like I might throw up on my laptop. That me, 18 and away from home for the first time, was utterly selfish and co-dependent, with a put-on introspection that resulted in long-stretches of brooding silence followed by petty bursts of unsubstantiated wrath and/or affection towards whomever happened to be around. I'm embarrassed by this pre-adult version of myself, shamed to see how he burned friendships and wasted time, but I admire the depth of his passion and his willingness to prod around inside of his brain. Granted, he systematically hyperbolized the findings, but there was, without a doubt, some searching going on. And I realized the other day, walking past the milk-tea flooding banks of the Hirose, that this desire to search is what's missing from my life now. Meeting and marrying Julianna was easily the best thing that has ever happened to me, but I recognize my overdependence on the comforts of such a stable relationship. In the same way that it's easier to sit down and watch a movie than to sit down and write a story, it's a great deal more comfortable for me to rest in this amazing love than to pursue my impulse to dissect and deconstruct what makes it work. I often feel like a fat, overfed baby, milk-drunk and satiated to the point of immobility. I let comfort feed my inherent laziness and, as a result, I get nothing done. I don't force myself to work. I don't act, I don't create. Why am I so afraid to write? Why do I ignore what ultimately gives me a great sense of accomplishment? Is my brain turning to tepid pudding? There is a balance here somewhere, but I'm still shuffling weights around trying to find it.

Hoo boy. Enough of that.

I'm at my visit school, Mukaiyama Senior High, right now, and I just finished grading 200 papers from the listening portion of the student's mid-term examinations. I've got a lesson to plan for next Monday, but after that my week is pretty much done. I'm not sure yet what the weekend holds, but Juli and I have talked about going to Nagamachi to watch a movie and do some shopping. Damn comforts.

2006-09-21T11:26:00.000+09:00

A Few More Pictures

2006-09-21T08:15:00.000+09:00

Little Update and Some Pictures

Once again, my sincere apologies to anyone who has checked in here expecting to find some new news these past two weeks. I simply haven't had the occassion to post anything. Next week students have exams, so I won't be teaching classes and will have plenty of free time to poke around the internet. I'll give a brief rundown for now:

Juli's broken fibula, our foremost concern, is slowly but assuredly healing and she's looking foward to the normalcy of taking showers without plastic bags taped below her knee.

Juli's birthday is today, so send her a message!

I bought a toy camera a few days ago.

I need a hair cut.

That's about it.

There's so much more, really, but I'm not up to processing it right now. Suffice it to say that life is going well here, and that each day I discover something unusual, beautiful, or striking. How about I just post some pictures?

2006-09-08T16:02:00.000+09:00

Random Photos, Mostly from the Tanabata Festival

2006-09-07T15:58:00.000+09:00

2006-09-06T15:53:00.000+09:00

Julianna weathered her surgery like an arctic fishing trawler. Meaning, it was a tough trip but she pulled through admirably. She's currently laid up on the 5th floor of Tohoku Kosai, braving the triple threat of suppositories (which the nurse refers to as "the rocket," complete with explicit hand gestures), sponge baths, and bad hospital food. I'm about to head over there now with some fresh fruit and a few of these delicious pudding cups I've recently discovered. I'll give it to Japan; they've got some great (and cheap) desserts.

Back to the surgery. Everything went well, and the surgery was "very successful" even though it was "more difficult" than the doctors had anticipated. Fortunately, the surgeon had studied at the University of Washington, spoke beautiful English, and was able to quell Julianna's fears with a magical wave of his scalpel. He answered all of her previously unanswered questions, questions that had once riddled the proceedings with a nauseating and ominous sense of mystery. The result was Julianna at her epitome of bravery. Given her fear of all things medical, I was expecting hysteria (just being honest), but as they led her into the operating room she smiled a nervous smile and we exchanged the ubiquitous it's-going-to-be-alright hand squeeze.

I'll have more to write about the surgery later, as I've got to catch the bus to the hospital now. I do want to express my sincere thanks to Miyuki, our newfound friend who served as comforter and translater over the past two days!

If you'd like to get in touch with us, please send an e-mail to our cell-phones: casey@h.vodafone.ne.jp or julianna@h.vodafone.ne.jp. We'd love to hear from you.

2006-09-02T16:42:00.000+09:00

Mark your calenders, because it's official: Julianna is scheduled for surgery this Tuesday, sometime in the morning. She's a bit nervous, naturally, so if you get a chance, please e-mail her with a kind word or two. According to Japanese standards, she'll be in the hospital for about a week. Don't worry, I'll load her up with DVDs and good books beforehand.

I went to both the Niko and Ichijoko school festivals today, and I'll get some pictures posted as soon as I can!

2006-09-01T08:57:00.000+09:00

Surgery, One Strange Fact, and the Brimming of Possibilities.

Ah, the tragic lament of my luckless wife. New country, new job, broken leg, prospect of surgery. Yes, our friendly orthopedic specialist has recommended a minor operation for Julianna's leg, if you consider the insertion of a metal plate and screws minor. We've sent digital copies of her x-rays to a few American doctors, and we're waiting for second and third opinions before we decide on anything. There's a definate difference in the way such an operation would be handled here. For instance, in America, this would be a simple outpatient procedure, and Julianna would be home, at the latest, the next day. Here, the doctor suggests a week long hospital stay for monitoring. We've also had it explained to us numerous times that Japanese and Americans have entirely different pain thresholds. I have a hard time believing that, but perhaps the stereotype will work in our favor and this notion of over-protective bedrest will evaporate. Though Julianna recognizes she will need rest, she certainly doesn't want to milk the system for sick days, especially needless ones. Here's to hoping surgery will be ruled out and her knee-high hard cast will suffice.

This week hasn't been all drama. I started teaching classes on Monday, and it's been a curious experience. Some classes are wholeheartedly enthusiastic, while others sit in collective silence with downcast eyes. Half the time I feel like Johnny Carson, entertaining the troops, and the other half I get this terrible impression that I'm the dryest speaker in the history of human utterance. I plow forward nonetheless. As part of my introductory lesson, I asked the students to fill out a questionaire asking, among other things, their "best memory" and "one strange fact" about themselves. Let me just say I got some responses I have no business knowing. There are, of course, the random "bad" kids in class, but nothing prepared me for "My sexual tastes is...crazy. I want try some drug in America." Ahem. Well, that one was probably the worst, grammatically too.

While the kids are often stoic, if not downright terrified in class, they exhibit entirely different personas in the hallways or outside school. I get enthusiastic hellos, obviously pondered questions, and these strange buddy-buddy-I don't know you but you're a really tall foreigner-kind of interactions. It's a lot of fun, and I love to see them scrambling for English words they've got stored away somewhere in their stressed and frenzied teenage minds. I don't mean that to sound condescending, either. These kids are most assuredly stressed. When I asked for their best memories, I assumed I would get responses like "playing soccer with my friends," or "going to Australia with my family." Granted, I did get those, but they were in the minority. An overwhelming number of students answered with "passing the entrance exam for this school." What happened to being a kid?

Inside and outside of school, Japan has been brimming with possibilities for me. I'm joining a writing workshop that's being started up by a few new ALTs, and I'm also playing guitar in a band that does Scottish and Irish folk music. There is an amazing sense of internationalization here, as I've made friends with Scots, Irelanders, Aussies, Canadians, and even a Jamaican. It's a small world after all.